Conception of Love
by angelusmusicorum
Summary: Hermione is sent back in time to Tom Riddle younger years and somehow snags the position as his girlfriend. What happens when she has to face a Boggart again in class?


It was needless to say that Hermione's sixth year didn't turn out like she had thought it would. Malfoy had somehow had a change of heart and decided to help the trio with their quest in defeating Voldemort. Dumbledore had told them that it was necessary that Draco kill him, much to Harry's chagrin; Hermione was finally convinced that the old man had gone insane.

When the Death Eaters infiltrated Hogwarts, everyone had began to anxiously do their part in the plan only with a slight change. As Draco stood shaking with Dumbledore cornered at the balcony, Professor Snape had flounced in and done the deed. As soon as Bellatrix and the others left the room, Hermione quickly came out of hiding and ran to Draco's side.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" She placed her hands on his shoulders, just barely, still nervous about their new friendship. His body was shaking uncontrollably as he sat on the floor with a far off look on his face. They stayed in that position for so long that Hermione had begun to wonder why Harry had not been able to befriend Malfoy like she had. It was then that he looked up into her eyes looking even more worried than when he had come to join the Order.

"Draco?"

He took a deep breath and reached out for her, no- not her-, for the chain around her neck, "You'll save us all, Hermione.."

Her mouth fell open in confusion, "I-I don't understand-" His cold hands had cupped the time-turner as he turned the knob carefully.

He whispered quietly, "I'm sorry." and suddenly Hermione was stuck in 1944; in Tom Riddle's sixth year.

She went through several stages of emotions before she had regained her composure; confusion, worry, panicked, and lastly betrayal. But they weren't towards Draco. They _never_ were for Draco. The feelings were directed to everyone _but_ Draco. Ron, Harry, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and especially Dumbledore.

With her wits gathered, Hermione had strolled along the halls until she reached the office of Headmaster Dippet's office where she had first encountered Tom Riddle. Her first thought was that she should've payed attention to Ginny's ramblings in her second year. Her second thought was she should be on guard. The prat had immediately turned on the charm (and _oh_ was it strong) though she recognized the suspicion in his eyes.

She forced a smile before asking him to let her see Dippet. He agreed and whispered the password to the statue. She wasn't surprised, there was no way that Voldemort- Voldy would care about his Headmaster's life. Soon afterwards she had become a student of Hogwarts _again._ Only this time she had been sorted into Slytherin.

Months and months of batting away all the pure-bloods' attention was exhausting.

" _I've never heard of Granger before. But you must be a pure-blood so no matter."_ She snorted.

" _Miss Granger, surely you have something to fix that unruly… hair of yours."_ She jinxed Abraxas and mentally apologized to Draco.

However with each and every move she made, she had found herself capturing Riddle's attention more and more. Somehow along the way, with their playful conversations (he had claimed she was flirting with him while she denied the act and simply called it friendly bantering with a housemate) and their bonding (her former self would have shuddered at the thought) over break, he had managed to woo her and she almost imagined that what he felt for her was the closest as it could be to love due to his predicament.

And here they were, in their seventh year and they had not only managed to refrain from murdering each other but had somehow became the school's golden couple. Two years ago, if someone had told Hermione that she was dating Riddle and Tom that he was dating a mudblood then he would've avada kedavra-ed their arse while the latter would've simply checked the person right into St Mungo's.

Hermione stood in the corner of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Tom on the opposite corner, with a bored look on her face. They were going over how to banish Boggarts. While she knew it was a couple decades back but surely they weren't _this_ far behind. She rolled her eyes at Tom who merely smirked in response, the two top students already knew the charm but nevertheless attended the class.

"Nger?" She tore her eyes away from Tom's lips and directed it to the professor.

"Miss Granger?" She smiled and heard a quiet chortle from Tom. She supposed it was too obvious to him that her smile was nowhere near real. "Yes, Professor Merrythought?"

Professor Merrythought's eyes moved over to the closet that held the Boggart, "It's your turn."

Hermione let out an inaudible sigh and walked forward, her classmates parting like the red sea for her. She braced herself as her professor opened the doors and blinked in surprise as she watched Tom walk out of the closet. It was McGonagall in her third year but now that the former- or rather _future-_ professor was in school, five years below her, Hermione had no doubt that it would be different but there was no way that Tom had managed to worm her way into being her worst fear. Yet there he was- Tom the Boggart.

Tom- no- the Boggart stepped forward with the usual smirk on his handsome features though it obviously showed ill intent. He raised a hand as if to caress her like his real counterpart and when she closed her eyes, she felt her hands shaking, her ears welcomed his cold laughter. Opening her eyes, she stared at him with confusion, "Do you really think I would do that to a mudblood like you?"

Gasps could be heard from around the room and she could hear the scandalous whispers surrounding her, " _A mudblood in Slytherin?"_

Tom- no- the Boggart laughed again, "Bet she all had you fooled didn't you?" He grabbed her cheek roughly and she gasped from the feeling. It was cold, not cold like Tom usually was but a coldness that seemed like Death itself had touched her. He turned her to face the class by tugging on her chin and she gritted her teeth together in dismay.

"Did you really think that _this_ was a pure-blood?" He pushed her to the floor and she felt tears erupting from her eyes though she didn't let them fall. She looked up at him in anger and watched as Tom the boggart raised his wand and she watched in horror as she realized the words that were going to erupt from his lips. _Could Boggarts kill anyone physically though?_ She gripped her wand tightly, raising it, preparing to say the charm that would save her from this nightmare.

"Avada-"

"Riddikulus!" Tom, the _real_ Tom had stepped in front of her and spoke the charm before anyone could blink, transforming the Boggart into-.. She stared in confusion when it didn't change, the Boggart was still taunting her- no, rather it was taunting himself now.

"Saving a mudblood? Have you gone soft, Riddle?" He didn't say anything, merely helped her up by her shoulders and led her out of the room, glaring at everyone that dared to look their way; something that was both normal and abnormal to the student body.

She shook out his hold after they were in the corridor, "Where are you taking me, Riddle?"

He merely took a hold of her hand and dragged her to the dorm they shared together, "Riddle? And here I thought all the time I spent with you convinced you to use my first name. Looks like we're back to square one."

They were in front of the dorm when she had finally ripped her hand out his grasp, "Didn't you hear him? I'm a mudblood. I lied to you."

He rolled his eyes, spoke to the portrait at the door, "Albucum."

She was dragged inside and forced to sit down on the couch while he had tossed aside his robes and began to loosen his tie, "I'm insulted that you think so poorly of me. I've always known you had impure blood. You really think I wouldn't have done my own research on someone that was going to be my Lady?"

Her eyes widened, "And you don't care? Lord Voldemort doesn't care that he's been dating a mudblood?"

He took a hold of her chin and raised her head up to look at him in the eyes, his hand cold, but significantly warmer than the Boggart's, "What I want most is immortality and for some reason, every muggle and mudblood-"

He raised his eyebrow when she flinched as if to say, " _Did you really expect me to say something different?"_

"-seem to be against the very thought. If they're against me then why shouldn't I be against them?"

Hermione only shook her head at his twisted logic, something not unsual, "Whatever you say then, Riddle."

Tom leaned down, pressing a kiss on her lips, "Tom, Hermione. I wish you wouldn't doubt me so easily when I obviously care about you more than I should be genetically able."

She looked at him in surprise and he scowled, "You're doing it already. Don't make me say it."

"Say it. I need to hear it."

He scowled more but nevertheless obliged, "Dumbledore, the old coot, told you that I was incapable of feeling love because of my matter of conception but I swear to you that whatever I feel for you is, or at the very least the closest thing to, love."

She laughed at the bluntness, "I love you too, Tom."


End file.
